All Chapters of From His Rejection to His Uncle’s Obsession : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

“Take off the necklace.”Rowan’s voice was a low, abrasive grate that cut through the silence of the master bedchamber.I stopped dead in the center of the room, my fingers freezing where they had been clumsily working at the heavy clasp of the black diamonds. We had just returned from a grueling evening rehearsal at the cathedral, and the weight of the ancient Kingsley heirloom had been digging into my skin for hours.Rowan stepped into my space, his broad shoulders instantly blocking out the amber glow of the fireplace. He didn't look at my face. His slate-grey eyes were fixed entirely on my collarbone, where the sharp, raw-cut emerald centerpiece had pressed a deep, angry crimson indent into my pale flesh."I'm fine," I muttered, my voice tight as I tried to pull away from his shadow. "It’s just heavy.""It’s not just heavy. It’s bruising you." A dark, dangerous current of irritation rippled through his aura, making the air in the room feel instantly thin and pressurized. He turn

Whispers from the kitchen staff always had a way of bleeding through the floorboards of the East Suite, carrying the sharp scent of terror and fresh gossip.I had been sitting by the window, staring out at the gray dawn, when the broken fragments of the servants' frantic conversations drifted up the service lift. He nearly killed him. Right there in the courtyard. The Prince was on his knees, coughing up blood, and the Alpha didn't even blink.By the time Lila brought up my morning tea, her hands were shaking so violently the porcelain rattled against the silver tray. She didn't even have to say the words. The look of sheer, unadulterated panic in her eyes confirmed everything. Rowan hadn't just defended my name in the boutique; he had physically dismantled Julian in the dead of night, right outside the fortress walls.The breakfast sat untouched as a volatile mixture of anger and anxiety twisted my stomach into hard, painful knots. I didn't wait for Marcus to give me permission, and

Rowan’s POV I stood by the window of my private study, the dark amber liquid in my glass untouched as I looked down at the estate courtyard. The rain had paused, leaving the stone plaza slick and reflective under the harsh security lights. In less than seventy-two hours, the cathedral doors would close behind us. The contracts were formalized, the strike teams were briefed, and the Council had been forced into absolute, resentful submission.Everything was prepared for a tactical victory.So why the fuck did I feel like a man standing on a landmine?"You're wound too tight, Rowan," Marcus said from the leather chair near the hearth. He was cleaning the slide of his sidearm, the rhythmic, metallic click-clack the only sound breaking the silence of the room. "I can smell your wolf from here. You’re leaking dominance like a wounded animal leaks blood. You need to slow down.""The security grid in the East Sector is still showing a two-second delay on the feed," I rumbled, my voice grav

Rowan’s POV The silk of her camisole rose and fell in short, panicked shallow breaths, a pale contrast to the dark oak of the doorframe.I kept my hand firmly planted on the wood beside her head, tracking the frantic, erratic pulse drumming against the side of her throat. The hallway behind me was a tomb of shadows, but here, in the threshold of her bedroom, the air was a thick, volatile pressure cooker of rain, ash, and the intoxicating, liquid vanilla of her arousal. My wolf was scratching at the back of my teeth, demanding I drop the mask of the stoic protector and sink my fangs into her bare shoulder right fucking now."What is it, Rowan?" she whispered. Her voice was a frayed thread, her hazel eyes wide, searching the dead iron of my expression for a reprieve she wouldn't find.I didn't answer right away. I let my gaze slide down her face, tracing the small, swollen curve of her lower lip, then down to her collarbone where the faint, fading purple mark of Julian's fingers still

Blood and incense filled my lungs, a suffocating combination that blurred the edges of the vaulted cathedral.I stood at the altar, the midnight-black lace gown heavy against my shins, catching the flickering, bloody light of a hundred beeswax candles. The Council elders sat in the front tier like gargoyles, their faces frozen in mask-like expressions of disapproval and fear. But I couldn't look at them. I couldn't look at anything but the massive man towering over me, his slate-grey eyes entirely consumed by a blown-out, predatory black.Rowan took my hand, his palm a searing, calloused iron weight."Before the Goddess, before the blood, and before the laws of the West District," his deep voice rumbled, echoing off the stone spires like thunder. He didn't use the traditional, submissive vows the Council had drafted. He looked down at me, his jaw clamped tight, his thumb pressing into the center of my wrist. "I take Veda Bennett as the Luna of the Enforcer Division. Her pack is my pa